A Good Audition
by DraejonSoul
Summary: Tiny gap filler for Civil War somewhere between the ending and first teaser credits.
1. Chapter 1

_Summary:_ Tiny gap filler for CACW somewhere between the ending and first teaser credits.

Many thanks to _**cairistiona7**_ for being my beta for this little effort!

This is a couple of firsts for me: my first time writing for this fandom, and first time writing again after a _very_ long time. Be gentle. :)

Just a mild warning for language ahead. Usual disclaimers apply (Characters belong to Marvel, etc.)

* * *

 **"A Good Audition"**

Scott Lang has always lived a very interesting and charmed life. And this year has been the most interesting yet, one hell of a roller-coaster ride the minute he stepped out of prison.

It was a great moment to ruminate on his life, he thought wryly, as he booked it with his new crew through the dimly lit halls of the facility that held them prisoner (a second for him).

 _Crew_. Not exactly how one would describe the Avengers (well, half of the Avengers) he had the privilege to fight alongside with, or share a cell block with. Not when it had something to do with him and his... interesting background.

Still. His daughter, Cassie, would never think it short of awesome.

"Come on!" He felt an urgent push behind him, as Clint Barton nudged him to take a right. "It won't be long before the rest of the base is onto us."

"Did you forget the mass of unconscious bodies back there?"

Clint shot him a wry grin. "Heh. Shows what you know."

The grin on Clint's face fell to a grim mask that grounded Scott back to the here and now, pumping more energy into his legs.

He, Clint and Sam finally caught up with Captain America (— _"Captain Freaking America, Cass!"_ —) at the bend, who was carrying a listless Wanda in his arms as if she were a light but precious cargo, leading the way to what they discovered to be the hangar. There were three crafts lined up some fifty feet away, but the Captain led them to the middle craft next to a sleek little jet that felt a little out of place somehow. Clint rushed over and got the rear hatch to open to a ramp, jumping in before it even touched the ground. Scott and the Captain trailed after him, while Sam bright up the rear, closing the hatch behind them.

"Strap in," Captain Rogers ordered, and it took Scott a few seconds to realize he was talking to him, as he and Sam eased Wanda to a cot that folded out of the wall of the aircraft. As he took the nearest seat, he heard Wanda mumble softly as she was laid out, and, as if in understanding, Captain America murmured assuring replies.

"You kids settled in back there?" Clint called out from the cockpit, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to his button-pushing and switch flipping.

"I'll watch her." Sam was already strapping himself in at the seat across Wanda's cot, giving the Captain a quick nod.

Seemingly satisfied, Cap gave the order to take off before even jumping in the seat beside Scott.

He was aware he was the newest guy in the group, so Scott took it upon himself to say what they must have all felt. "Thanks for coming back for us, Cap."

For a moment, there was a look in the Captain's eyes that he couldn't read, which softened a blink later.

"You're welcome. And it's Steve, Scott."

He hastily tried to cover up for his choked-up non-answer with a scratch to his nose, hoping his warming face wasn't going too red. Not only was he talking to the leader of the Avengers, he was talking to a living legend. One does not simply engage with an American icon on a first-name basis.

"Yeah, of course! C... Steve."

 _Playing it cool, Scott, you are not._

The cabin was silent for about half an hour, when Clint spoke up.

"Well, Cap. We haven't picked up a tail, but we're still in stealth mode, just to be sure. Where to now?"

"I've already encoded the flight coordinates for Wakanda in there..."

Clint's head snapped up. " _Wakanda_? When did that happen?"

Steve's shoulders seemed to have tightened more, his face taut as he stared at the expanse outside the cockpit, before looking back to Clint. "His Highness offered us asylum. We've uncovered the real man behind the UN bombing, and he should be turned in by T'Challa to the task force in Berlin."

"O-kayyy. How does that explain the asylum bit?"

"Yeah, Cap," Scott piped in, turning slightly in his seat to face him. "Isn't their country one of those who signed the Accords? How can we be sure he won't turn us in?"

"Because the king gave his word." Steve trained heavy eyes on him. Scott felt like he failed the whole country with that look Captain America just gave him. "Besides, Bucky's waiting for us there."

"I was wondering where that cyborg bastard's been," Sam spoke up for the first time since their talk started. "I can't believe he let you pull this rescue mission without him."

"I didn't let him," Steve replied with a tired sigh. Then he proceeded to tell them how Tony Stark followed him and Barnes to Siberia, admitted that Steve was right about his suspicions about some fake doctor. That they had a truce before finding out that the doctor had killed the psycho assassins, leading up to the said truce being shattered by a revelation of the truth behind Tony Stark's parents' deaths. That it wasn't an accident, that Steve knew the truth somehow, and never told Stark. Which, considering the revelation, Stark's reaction was understandable, if a bit overboard.

Scott's mind stuttered to a halt then. These guys didn't do things by halves. " _Wow._ Shit."

Steve's lips curled up, but his eyes were sad. "Pretty much."

"Is he okay?" Scott winced internally at his own question. Well, obviously.

"Took some hits. Tony took out his left arm. And Tony? A little banged up, but he should be fine."

Now, Scott really winced. He didn't realize Barnes was part of the fallout. "Ow. Sorry, Cap."

Steve waved him off, then something lit behind his eyes. "There is something I wanted to ask of you..."

"Sure!" Because who was he to say no to Captain America asking him a favor?

"You know your way around electronics?"

"Absolutely! Not to brag, but I helped with the upgrade of my suit!" he declared proudly.

He must have said the right thing because Steve's face broke into a relieved smile. "That's good. What I'll ask of you isn't something to sneeze at, because I need you to look at Bucky's arm."

It occurred to Scott all at once that A) Steve was referring to Barnes' awesome and deadly metal arm, B) the freaking Winter Soldier and his said awesome and deadly metal arm were on his team, and C) in light of the earlier narrative, he began to question the wisdom of this request, especially if it involves his continued existence.

Something must have registered on his face that made Steve back down a little. "I know it's a lot to ask of you. But Bucky is wary of new people, even if the Wakandan techs have good intentions."

Scott blinked. "But... how would I be different? I'm the new guy in this outfit."

"You're a friend," Steve replied, gaze steady, "who's been tested in battle, and proved he can be relied upon."

With words like that, he'd be a dick to turn down Captain America now.

"Oooh. Was that one of your campaign slogans? 'Coz I don't remember..."

Scott was surprised to see an amused smirk from the captain. "Shaddup, Sam."

Scott held up his hands. "Hey, no need to twist my arm! Of course I'll do it!"

There was a hand on his shoulder, warm and friendly. "Thanks, Scott. And don't worry. A couple of techs and I will be there with you. So, if Bucky gets to be a handful"—Sam's short bark of laughter was met by Steve's eyeroll—"we'll be there to help."

* * *

 _~ tbc._


	2. Chapter 2

_Usual disclaimers apply. My thanks to those who reviewed, followed, and are still here reading the next bit!_ ^_^

* * *

Scott was awakened with a persistent shaking on his shoulder. As he slowly came to his senses, he heard a low voice near his ear say, "We're almost here."

"How long was I out?" he asked, stretching in his seat.

"About four hours," Sam responded, walking back to his seat. "And keep your seatbelt on. We're landing in a few."

He leaned forward and peered to his right. "You didn't think to wake him?"

Sam's eyes tracked to Steve's form, slumped back and head tilted away from him. "He fell asleep only an hour ago. Let's give him a few more minutes."

"Not with you two yappin', yer not." Steve cut in blearily. He sat up with a grunt, getting the kinks out of his neck.

Their attention was drawn to the cockpit as Clint whistled.

"Whoa."

They craned their necks to see. It was hard to see, but a glimpse gave Scott the distinct impression that Wakanda was no ordinary African country.

They started their ascent down a private-looking airstrip. The distant high buildings looked like it was a melding of ancient and modern architecture, neither of which he could distinguish, but knew they were there somehow. And the few aircrafts that were there...

"Hey, I saw one of those in the Raft!" Scott blurted excitedly, pointing to one of the sleek obsidian crafts.

Steve spared him an amused glance before returning to the task of helping Wanda sit up. "You thought I pulled this off without some help? Neither His Highness nor Bucky would've ever let me go if I did."

"Well, thank God someone talked sense into you," quipped Sam.

"I couldn't agree more." Steve clapped him on the back as he stood with Wanda quietly leaning on his arm, facing the opening hatch with Sam. Clint and Scott followed them out of their jet, and were met by three attendants in mint green scrubs with a gurney, and a tall, striking Wakandan woman in a sleek gunmetal gray catsuit and shaved head. It was all Scott could do to keep his eyes from roving down. She graced each of them with a calm look and a light bow.

"Welcome to Wakanda. I am Ayo. These men will assist any of you who are in need of medical assistance."

Steve stepped forward, with an arm around Wanda, acknowledging Ayo with a slow nod. "Miss Ayo. We appreciate your assistance in the Raft. It wouldn't have been successful without your help."

Scott and the others stepped forward as well upon hearing this. For her part, Wanda gave a murmur of thanks, and the other men followed suit. Ayo's eyes softened upon turning to her.

"You are most welcome. The intel you provided was most helpful." With a gesture from her, the attendants came forward and gently took Wanda from Steve and helped her up on the gurney, while Sam apprised the leading EMT of Wanda's condition. Once secured, they wheeled her inside, as the rest of the party followed.

"How's my friend?" Steve asked as he walked alongside Ayo.

There was a twinkle in her warm brown eyes. "Awaiting your return restlessly, as I've been reliably informed."

Steve huffed out a laugh. "Of course, he is."

They followed the gurney until they reached some kind of hospital ward—two exam rooms with a few curtained beds, a wide waiting area, and a nurse's station. These typical hospital fixtures were what gave the place away, but the area itself wasn't something like the ones he's seen back home. This was… earthy, for lack of a better word. Softer, yet edgy. There was some sort of rippling texture in the light green walls around him, trimmed with combinations of dark green, brown, black, or metallic silver and/or gold. _There are_ _actual_ _metallic trimmings in the walls?_ The place felt more like an upscale corporate office than a medical facility.

A man in white scrubs approached them, firing questions at the lead EMT in surprisingly serviceable English. It was thoughtful of him not to speak in their native tongue.

As they wheeled Wanda into one of the exam rooms, Clint turned to them.

"I'll stay with Wanda," he offered. "You go check in on Barnes."

Sam tilted his head in Clint's way. "I'll keep him company."

"Keep me posted." He nodded to both men and watched them head for the exam room. Then he turned to Ayo.

"Miss Ayo, would you take us to Bucky, please?"

Her face lifted to something friendly, but only just. "Please, Captain. Just Ayo. Mr. Barnes has been taken to a private suite after we saw to his injuries. If you would come with me."

They were led to another hall, passing the exam rooms, which were actually four rooms situated across from each other. They turned down a slightly smaller hallway of several doors, presumably the private rooms. They stopped in front of the seventh door on the left, and Ayo knocked.

"Mr. Barnes? It's Ayo. Your friends are here."

A muffled invitation sounded from within. As Ayo opened the door, the tired face of James Barnes greeted them from the only bed in the room.

"Hi, Ayo! Fellas." He gave them a lopsided grin.

Scott pursed his lips as he stepped into the suite. Clearly, "took some hits" and "took out his arm" was a _huge_ understatement, as the afternoon sun bathed everything in the room in stark detail. Barnes' face was a map of bruises and cuts, his right arm being no different. He was wearing a light blue patient gown, with matching pajama pants to match. He was sitting up, propped on pillows, one leg tucked under him, and an open book in his lap.

But what really drew Scott's attention as he posted himself at the foot of the bed was the void where a left arm should be. _Stark actually took out his_ entire _left arm?_

"Hey, Bucky," Steve called out softly, a hand on Barnes' right shoulder. "You're upright."

Barnes snorted. "I guess I am, Captain Obvious," he sassed back, clasping the other's upper arm. "And you look like you're in one piece. That's a first."

"See? In and out, just like I told you," Steve chided mildly.

"It worked because it was someone else's plan."

Scott tuned out the exchange, throwing a hapless shrug Ayo's way. She merely looked at him, but there was clearly amusement dancing behind her eyes, not at all put off that they were wallflowers to this bickering.

"So, where are the others?" Barnes asked.

"Sam and Clint are down at the emergency room…"

Bucky straightened with a slight wince. "Are they okay?"

Steve put up a restraining hand. "Settle down, pal. They're fine. It's just…"

"Wanda." Barnes' face went blank.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed with with a heavy sigh. "Someone put a collar on her to tamp on her powers. She… doesn't seem to have reacted well to that." He held a finger when Barnes opened his mouth. "The doctors are looking at her now to see if there were any lasting damages. And before you go flying off the handle, we need to wait for their findings. Retaliation is the last thing we need to do."

A slow frown appeared on Barnes' brows. "My memory's Swiss cheese, but I recall being the voice of reason had always been my job."

The remark earned a choked laugh from Steve, and a surprised one from Scott. This guy sure got big _cojones_ to be talking to Captain America like this. And even a bigger surprise was that the _Captain_ was just taking it and giving it right back in equal measure. He supposed he's still getting his head around the fact that this deadly hobo is Cap's best friend and an equally historical icon.

"I have my moments," Steve shot back lightly. "Listen. Scott knows electronics. He can take a look at your shoulder and see what it is that's bothering you."

Barnes raised a brow, eyes setting on Scott. "So you know cybernetics?"

Steve's brow shot up in surprise at his friend. "Someone's up to speed with this millennium."

Barnes merely shrugged.

Scott had a mind not to point out that the technology has been around in the fifties; far be it for him to lecture the leader of the Avengers! He made a so-so gesture instead. "Electronics are more my thing. But I'm pretty flexible."

"So, what do you think, Buck? Would you like Scott to take a look?"

He looked a little uncertain. "I don't see the point of getting my shoulder checked right away," Barnes reasoned.

Steve scoffed. "Yeah? And your face going all funny whenever you move your left shoulder is just some nervous tic you picked up?"

"It's fine," Barnes drawled. "It's just my side acting up a bit." His voice trailed off, mumbling, " _Face going all funny…_ "

"Oh, you mean the ribs cracked or broken in several places? The spot where Tony shot you?"

Now Scott made a face. "Ouch."

Cap leaned back, arms crossed, and leveled his friend with a stare that completed the "Captain America is Disappointed in You" look. "This isn't payback for all those years of caring for me while I was sick, is it?"

Barnes answered with a beatific smile. "Now, why would I do that?"

"Gentlemen, if I may," Ayo cut in smoothly making all eyes turn to her. "Captain Rogers is right, Mr. Barnes. It would be prudent to have your shoulder looked over right away, and have a preliminary assessment of the damage and be able to make the needed repairs and replacement."

Barnes blinked up at her. "Replacement?"

"Of course! His Highness' engineers have begun working on improvements on the previous design of your arm."

His mouth worked, and all that came was, "But… why?"

Ayo gave a hint of a smile. "That question would be best answered by His Majesty himself."

Barnes looked at the faces around him with a resigned sigh. "Can't talk my way out of this, can I?"

"I was considering calling down King T'Challa if you continued to be boneheaded about this," Steve admitted casually.

Their patient dropped his gaze to the end of the bed, shaking his head with a breathy chuckle. "Punk."

"Jerk," Steve retorted with no heat.

"Well!" Scott clapped his hands together. "Now that that's settled, how are we gonna go about this?"

Steve turned to Barnes with an assessing look. "D'you wanna go down to their lab?"

He was already shaking his head, face clouding over slightly. "Here."

His response gave Scott pause. After first learning that Sam was looking for him, Scott looked up whatever he can about the Avengers and its members. He wanted to get himself oriented on who we could be going up against—or, he was strongly hoping—with. Until his research led him to the massive file dump on S.H.I.E.L.D. and this psychotic little bunch called HYDRA. Nasty stuff those assholes had been doing over decades.

And that's when he also learned that Captain America wasn't the only one from the last World War to have gotten reanimated. Barnes "died" a war hero; now he's back from the grave a hell of a lot more menacing, with an equally menacing arm to go with him. The details from the info dump surrounding the Winter Soldier was scant at best, but one thing did stand out to Scott: Barnes was never a willing participant in his transformation.

Scott nodded slowly, his face carefully schooled and at ease. "That's cool. I might need some diagnostic tools to help me check. I'll only be patching stuff up, don't worry. And I might need one or two guys to help with any machines..."

"I don't want anyone else near me and touching my shoulder except you," Barnes demanded. "And"—he looked a little uneasy—"warn me before you need to do something. Getting startled… it doesn't end well."

 _For me or for him?_ "Nooo problem," Scott replied easily, holding up his hands. "Unless it's really urgent, I'll be the only one poking around. And I'll make a running commentary of what I'm gonna do before doing it. Sound good?"

"Let's just get it over with." Barnes slumped back against the pillows, setting his book aside.

"Perhaps a meal is in order," Ayo announced. "After being detained and a four-hour flight, I'm sure Mr. Lang would want a decent meal." She turned to the two friends. "The same goes for both of you."

Pink tinged the Captain's face, hand coming up to the back of this neck. "Yeah, that would be a great idea, actually," he admitted sheepishly.

"Excellent. I'll have your meals sent up here." Ayo gave a little bow and turned to go.

Steve stood up. "Let me go with you," he offered. "I'll need to check in on Sam, Clint, and Wanda, anyway. And talk to those techs who will help Scott."

"Very well, Captain. Your company is welcome."

"I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?" Steve told Scott and Barnes, then gestured for Ayo to walk ahead of him to the door.

The room fell silent as Ayo and Steve left. Turning his head slowly to Barnes, Scott gave him a weak smile.

To which Barnes rolled his eyes. "Jeez, take a load off, Scott," he chastised, softened by the grin on his face, and nodded to an empty chair on the left. "I won't bite."

Scott took the offer, scooting the chair a little closer to the bed. Up close, the void of a missing limb was even more unsettling. He shook his head. "Did it hurt when..." he didn't finish, gesturing towards the missing arm.

Barnes looked to where Scott pointed. "Not like it would a normal arm. I may or may not have nerve endings in the shoulder hypercharged when I got hit."

"Like an electric shock?"

"Yeah," he nodded, eyes looking distant. "Only it feels like it exploded from within."

Scott had a hard time imagining how that felt like. "Yikes. You definitely need to have that looked at. Who knows if your nerve endings got toasted."

"I doubt it. If the damage reached live tissue, I would've _really_ felt it."

"And you'd be willing to admit you're in constant severe pain?" Scott dared to ask, and flinched."Look…"

He was spared when Barnes held up his hand. "It's fine. I know I was being a stubborn ass earlier. I'm just tired of being crowded, and having Mama Steve constantly getting on my case."

Scott gave a noncommittal grunt, gesturing to the left shoulder again. "Mind if I take a little peek?"

Barnes heaved a big sigh. "If you must." He began deftly unbuttoning the front of his top, then eased it off his left shoulder.

The breath whooshed out of Scott. "Damn." Bruising from the battle was expected, but Scott had never seen a successful fusion of metal and human tissue ever. He was sure that there was still a shoulder joint under the shoulder plates. But did they cut away muscle to-

He cut off further thought when he felt his gut start to churn. Besides, he felt the burn of Barnes' gaze on him. Setting his professional curiosity aside, he turned his gaze to the stump where the arm should have been.

"Stark really did a number here," he remarked, bending closer. And did Stark ever stop to consider if he blasted off part of a living arm? _Bastard_.

"Well, I was trying to stop him from killing us," Barnes mused. "But I wasn't being gentle about it, either."

"Still, he should've shown some restraint."

"Yeah, he should've," Barnes said quietly.

Scott didn't need to look up from his task to know that the talk was starting to drift to unsafe waters. He fell silent as he tried angling himself to get a better look at the charred wiring underneath, even going as far as taking a tongue depressor from a drawer and breaking it in half lengthwise. The makeshift probing tool earned an amused snort from Barnes.

"You're pretty handy."

"Eh. I love poking at stuff, even things that I'm not supposed to." Something occurred to him then, as he drew back and gestured at Barnes with his stick. "You know, you strike me as a technical guy," he observed. "Not because of the arm and all, but… you know stuff."

"Those techs do maintenance work on my arm from time to time. I'm awake during those sessions, so I pick up some things."

"No, no, it's not just that. Making sensible observations about the workings of your arm like that. I mean, you gotta be technically-inclined to come up with that. You're really something else, Barnes." He grinned.

"Well." Barnes didn't continue, turning his head away. But not before Scott saw hint of a smile and a blush in his bruised cheeks. "And it's Bucky."

"Hmm?"

"Just call me Bucky."

Scott smiled to himself at that little win, drawing closer again. He would have to kneel on the floor to get to those wi-

" **SHIT!** " Scott almost toppled where he sat when the shoulder stump _shifted_ , making a little whir.

Bucky looked like he was having a hard time keeping it in, a laugh bubbling in his throat while snaking a hand over the ribs on his left. "Sorry! I'm so sorry. You were having a hard time there, I thought I could help." He was still _giggling_ , probably at the face he must be sporting. The little shit.

Scott had a hand over his rapidly beating heart. "Damnit, Barnes! Warn a guy before you do something like that!"

"Hey, how was I to know what you don't? Just because the arm got shot off, doesn't mean the whole thing's immobilized. 'Sides, shouldn't that question be part of your diagnosis, pal?"

Scott gave him the stink eye, but he couldn't fault the logic in that. "Smartass…" he grumbled, sitting back down.

Bucky huffed. "Try living with one most of your life, see if you don't pick up a thing or two."

"Wow. I would've pegged you to be the smart mouth in the pair."

"True. But I wasn't the one who always got picked on because of it."

Talk drifted to lighter topics then, about what Barnes— _Bucky_ — remembered in his younger years, especially those brawling days with Steve in alleyways.

"I can't imagine Steve being smaller than I am!"

"Neither can most people," Bucky agreed. "A stiff breeze could have knocked him over. Which was why I dragged him to a boxing gym and gave him lessons."

Scott stopped from the task of capping off an open wire with the medical tape he found and looked up at Bucky. "You. Gave Steve boxing lessons?"

"The kid had to defend himself since I can't always be with him."

Scott was shaking his head at him in amazement, finishing what he was doing and letting Bucky get dressed. "I can't believe it. I'm getting _first-hand information_ on Captain America's younger years. From his old best friend, no less!"

Said friend made a face as he buttoned up his shirt. "Eh. Steve's still just a guy." He stilled. "And what do you mean, _old best friend_?"

"I dunno. Just the vibe I get from Sam, I guess. As his new friend and sidekick in the present age."

"I am not, and never was, a _sidekick._ " He gave Scott a flat glare.

There's that logical leap again. He didn't intentionally imply that Bucky was; Scott supposed it was a sore point for him.

"But you don't mind Steve getting a new bestie?"

Bucky frowned at him. "' _Bestie_ '? Why should I mind? Steve is a grown-ass man. I'm just glad he found friends when he did. He didn't have a lot of them growing up. I just question his choices sometimes."

"You don't like Sam?" Scott thought he was on okay guy.

"It's not that," Bucky pointed out. "I'm sure he'll come around. After getting over me beating his ass, or trashing his little bird wings. Maybe if I replace the car I helped wreck…" He was starting to warm up on that last idea.

Scott winced. "Huh. No wonder he gives you the murder eye sometimes."

"Not a great first impression, huh?" Bucky asked with a smirk.

"Definitely not," Scott agreed. "And I thought mine was bad, when I, uhhh, dropped by the Avengers' base one time."

Somehow, Bucky's whole body went still, pinning Scott with a penetrating look. He never realized Bucky's eyes were blue, until now…

Bucky slowly leaned forward, supporting his right elbow on his knee as his upper body turned towards Scott, gaze never wavering. Is this how it feels to be trapped in the Winter Soldier's sights?

"And what exactly were you doing, dropping by the Avengers' base?"

 _Don't look away, don't look away. He'll know something's-no, don't—_

His gaze flitted off to Bucky's right shoulder, trying to draw inspiration from something in the distance. "Well—just—I was running an errand…"

Bucky nodded slowly. "I'm sure you weren't borrowing sugar."

Scott's fingers were drumming a staccato beat on his thigh. "Yeah. I mean, of course it wasn't. Someone left something in their base, and I… needed to get it back." That laser-blue scrutiny was burning the back of his skull. _Why the hell is he so interested to know? And why the hell does Bucky feel too close?_ He called on every fiber of his being not to fidget where he sat.

"And _where_ does Wilson fit in all this?" Bucky asked, his voice low.

"He was… he was on patrol, and he saw me."

"Scott." Bucky's bare feet were on the cold floor, his hand resting on his knee as he loomed closer to Scott's personal space. His voice pitched lower. "You will tell me, in every detail, how this encounter went down. I'll know when you leave something out." He bared his teeth to emphasize his point, eyes glittering almost grey. "Now, _spill_."

And so Scott did. He had a few false starts, having to swallow several times to wet his dry throat. From the moment he greeted Sam, to the gritty details of their little tussle (because Bucky insisted. And, _oh_ , can he insist!), right until he made his getaway on Ant-ony's back, leaving Sam with his grounded jetpack.

At the end of the tale, Bucky blinked a few times. Very, very slowly, he leaned away, eyes never straying from Scott's. For a moment, he looked thoughtful, as if parsing the words in his head. One side of his mouth turned up. "Huh."

It broke the spell for Scott, feeling he dodged a bullet somehow. Then he saw Bucky's shoulders shaking slightly, his grin a little wider, and a raspy chuckle escaped from him.

"That was... interesting," was all Bucky said, as he inched his way back to his previous position on the bed, eyes pinched at the corners. The moment his back touched the pillows, he let out a silent sigh, his only hand coming up to his left side.

 _And that was anticlimactic._ Scott really had no idea what to expect, but it wasn't exactly this. Maybe Bucky was still in too much pain. He was hoping for a Cassie, or even a bit of a Luis level reaction. "Still not at the level of badassery yours likely was," he offered.

Bucky raised a skeptical brow, but said nothing. "Steve musta gotten a kick out of that story," he said instead.

"Dunno," Scott replied with a shrug. "Never got to ask him."

The knock on the door made them look up, and Steve stepped in with a paper bag in his hand.

"Ayo will have food brought up here within the hour," he announced as he approached Bucky's bed. "The techs would be by once we've eaten. So we've got some time to kill. Probably a good time for you freshen up, Scott. She also asked me to give you these clothes to change into."

"That woman is an angel! Kind of a scary one, but still." Scott peeked into the bag Steve handed him with, thumbing the soft fabric of the pants and shirt.

"That she is," Bucky quietly agreed.

"You can take a shower in there." Steve indicated the door in the far corner of the suite.

"Thanks. I'm just gonna..." He hefted the bag with a nod to Steve and Bucky, then turned to go.

The thought of a real bath and a hot meal distracted him from the quiet conversation that was starting between the two friends as he shut the bathroom door.

* * *

 _~tbc._

 _ **A/N** :_

 _According to the MCU Wiki, Ayo is head of security and a member of the Dora Milaje. She was last seen threatening to bodily move the Black Widow in the movie. :)_

 _Story title was loosely based on Sam's line in CACW: "It was a great audition, but it'll—it'll never happen again." You know, that scene from Ant Man._

 _Constructive feedback is welcomed!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Last chapter! Thanks again to_ _ **cairistiona7**_ _for being the beta for this story, and for having encouraged me to write this out._

 _Mild warning for more language!_

* * *

The next morning found Sam and Clint walking down the medical wing of the facility. Sam had thought of exploring the place, and was able to drag Clint out of bed. Wanda and Scott were a different matter: Wanda, due to her need for more rest, and Scott was admittedly not much of a morning person. So it left the two men to try to rope Steve (and by extension, maybe Bucky) into checking out the place with them.

"Thought we'd find you here," Sam said by way of announcing themselves after knocking and stepping into Bucky's medical suite. The room definitely qualified as a suite, and then some.

"Hey, guys," Steve acknowledged, nodding to both from the couch near the bed. Bucky, who sat at an adjacent armchair, acknowledged them with a muted nod.

"We were gonna grab a bite then have a look around," Clint proposed, stuffing his hands in his borrowed slacks. "We were wondering if you boys would wanna come with."

"Why don't you guys join us for breakfast first? There's enough for everyone," Steve indicated the generous spread laden on the coffee table. A cart set to the side offered fresh coffee and other refreshments.

"They sure know how to feed your super-soldier asses, don't they?" Sam remarked, taking a seat beside Steve.

As the men eagerly tucked into their breakfast, Sam got a better look at the condition of Steve's oldest friend. The bruises and contusions he kind of expected; it was the glaring absence of the metal arm that was jarring. He made a mental note to ask Steve about it later. Confrontation with friends doesn't make a great opening topic over a meal.

"Oh, my god, this is really good," Sam moaned, as the warm bread and cream cheese just melted in his mouth. "And I'm not saying this 'coz we just broke out of prison, but this stuff's really, _really good_."

"Can't argue with you there," Steve acknowledged, in between shovelling food in his mouth. It looked like Sam, Clint, Scott and Wanda weren't the only ones deprived of a good meal.

"Slow down or you'll choke," Barnes chided gently, spearing his toast and wiping his runny eggs with it. Someone had the foresight to serve Barnes' food in a tasteful-looking scooper plate.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Yes, _mother_ ," he retorted with a long-suffering groan. Then his features froze, and then frowned at some internal realization. He cast a mildly alarmed look in Barnes' direction.

Barnes simply blinked lazily back, face not giving anything away. "I thought I was imagining things," he said slowly, "that you were a little shit. Guess I was right after all." There was a faint glimmer in his eyes that was hidden behind the coffee mug he drank from.

For a few seconds, Steve looked like he was in a daze, until he blew out a gusty breath, face breaking into a lopsided grin. "And _you_ are still an asshole."

Sam traded a surprise glance with Clint, who looked vaguely impressed. They've never really heard trash-talking like this from their captain, much less directed at someone he's close to. Sure, they'd give each other shit like any other group of friends, but never outright name-calling as, well, a term of endearment. The team's betting pool would definitely need to be updated as to how much _language_ the All-American Golden Boy could get up to.

Clint held up a placating hand. "Boys, boys. Not in front of a glorious breakfast, eh?"

That made Sam and Steve chuckle at seeing Hawkeye go all Dad mode. Bucky raised an amused brow.

As they lapsed to a more comfortable silence, Sam couldn't help but feel the heat of Barnes' attention on him for some reason, though he couldn't catch him looking on casual glances in Barnes' direction. Sneaky bastard. But he did note the silent exchange between the two super-soldiers, each look holding some conversation Sam couldn't decipher.

Then, Steve spoke up. "You know, Sam, I've never thought of asking you before," he began casually, "but I was wondering: How did you know Scott?"

Clint straightened. "Yeah, dude. You been holdin' out on us? Seeing other superheroes on the side?"

"Naw, it ain't like that, man," Sam replied easily. "You know there's only you fellas."

"Come on," Steve cajoled. "I'm sure there's an interesting story behind how you met."

"Yeah? What made you think it would be some kind of crazy-ass, superhero encounter of epic proportions?" challenged Sam.

"'Coz you're hanging out with us?" Clint countered.

"And I'm _tellin'_ you, it ain't like that."

Barnes, who had been silent since the topic began, tilted his head to the side. "You know, for a simple question, you're taking a roundabout way of answering it."

Sam turned to him with a faintly nasty look. _I hate you._ "Are you saying I'm hiding something?"

Barnes shrugged his stump of a shoulder (Sam couldn't help but get creeped out by that for some reason). "You tell me."

"Since when has this turned into an interrogation?" Sam couldn't help but ask, looking at their expectant faces.

Steve held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "You know what, you're right," he concurred. "It's none of our business. If you don't want us to know, it's fine."

"Yeah, we can respect that," Clint seconded. "If it was just a boring, meeting a regular guy kind of thing, like what these normal people types do. Right, Cap?" He sounded too casual to actually be convincing.

"Of course," Steve said with a nod. "It's not like something _happened_ that we ought to know about. Scott wasn't an Avenger…"

"But, Wilson is," Barnes volunteered.

 _Just keep stuffing your face over there and shut up!_

"Yes he is, Buck. I mean, if they met on Avengers' business, then I should've at least been informed…"

A slow frown creased Barton's face, fixing Sam with a narrow stare. "Yeah, that's right…"

"I dunno why you're making such a _giant_ deal about this," was Barnes' input, reaching over the food cart for muffins and coffee.

Sam snorted. "Well, it looks to me you guys are making too _big_ a deal out of it." Something was up, a distant itch he couldn't seem to reach.

"You said something, like a good, no, _great_ audition," Barnes recalled with a snap of his fingers.

Steve graced his old buddy with a fond little smile. "You recalled that, huh?"

 _And what a_ _very_ _convenient time for Mister Mindfucked to have remembered that,_ Sam groaned internally. He was really trying his best to keep _any_ expression off his face. He was _not_ going to cave in front of a spy, an assassin and America's icon, dammit!

Barnes gave that creepy shrug again. "It just came to me when Sam said it wasn't a big deal." His looked around his companions, eyes too wide and too pure. "What he said then. Doesn't that mean that it _was_ a big deal?"

"A'right, a'right," Clint cut in, flapping a hand at them and shaking his head. "Forget about it."

Sam wanted to kiss him right then, but had a mind to keep playing it cool.

Clint popped a fruit in his mouth, Steve flashed a shamefaced grin, and Barnes scowled, their attention back to their momentarily forgotten breakfast. Sam took in a relieved breath.

The blessed silence could only last for so long.

"Maybe it's over a chick."

" _Oh, my god…_ "

"A great audition, Barton. Remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm not the one with the fried memory here."

"Aren't we so fixated on that line, Barnes?"

"Bucky has a point. What would Scott be 'auditioning' for?"

Barnes' face screwed up in contemplation. "Does Scott wanna sing?"

"Dude. Sam is no musical artist. I oughtta know: I've been to karaoke with this guy."

Sam squawked in indignation.

"What's… _karaoke_?"

"I'll explain later, Buck. You're gonna love it."

"For fuck's sake, guys. I'm right here!"

"So, what _did_ Scott audition for, Sam?"

 _I thought you'd be on my side, Cap!?_

Sam opened his mouth, resolved to nip this bullshit in the bud, but then—

"Maybe he wanted to be an Avenger…"

"Yeah, that reason makes more sense than your last one."

"Thanks, Barton."

 _Damn Barnes and his quips from outta nowhere!_

"Did he get into a fight with Scott?"

 _You're breaking my heart here, Steve._

"What? Like a 'beat the crap outta each other' fight, or a verbal one?"

"Well, _duh_ , Barnes! The first one!"

"So Wilson's the type to let his fists do the talking, huh?"

"I would, if it's my girl involved."

"I wonder who won…?"

"That's it." Sam gripped the arms of the couch to hoist himself up. "I think I'm gonna go for that stroll now. By my _self_. Feel free to talk around me." He made a beeline for the door, when Steve called out after him.

"You know, it's okay," he started hesitantly, "if you did have a fight with Scott."

"It's all in the past, right?" Barnes put in.

"Yeah." Steve stood, casually shoving his hands in his pockets. "I wouldn't judge if—what was that expression again?—Scott _whipped your ass_?"

"It's _whooped yo' ass_ , Cap."

Sam gave Clint the death glare. "Really helpful, Barton."

Steve waved Clint down. "If Scott ever did 'whoop your ass,'" he formed the words carefully, a solemn look on his boyish face. "Just know that _we will avenge you._ "

Sam didn't respond. Instead, he marched out with his head held high. He turned around, raised a snappy single-fingered salute, then walked away with the tattered remains of his dignity dragging behind him.

 _I hate you three_.

* * *

 _~ end_

 _ **Thanks so much**_ _for the support you've given this little story! I had fun writing it. I hope you all enjoyed it! ^_^_


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